Keeping Score
by Lithui
Summary: Draco thinks about that stupid 'Potter for President' cheer.


Draco Malfoy was in a very, very bad mood.

He'd lost to Potter.

Again.

Damn that stupid scar-headed ponce anyway! Just because he was supposed to save the world or some rubbish didn't mean he should get to win all the time.

Besides, it wasn't fair. He, Draco, wasn't slated to be saving the world anytime soon. What was one Quidditch game in the grand scheme of things?

And it didn't help that those godforsaken Gryffindors insisted on screaming, "Potter for president!" at every match.

It pissed him right off.

During the last two games, someone (he suspected it was the Mudblood) had produced enormous amounts of gold 'Potter for President!' badges that the entire Gryffindor section had pinned on their robes. He'd seen the Snitch and had been zooming after it when the sun caught about fifty of the damned things and blinded him for a good couple of minutes.

'Potter for President'? President of what?

Draco sure as hell didn't want Potter being president of anything he was involved in.

In fact, anything involving Potter, no matter how remote, usually ended up being attacked by the Dark Lord.

Potter for President. Pish.

The only thing Draco would vote Potter as a candidate for presidency of was the Janus Thickey ward at Mungo's.

Stupid Mudblood.

He punctuated this thought by slinging his Quidditch bag against a large statue of a troll clubbing a chimaera. The troll made a rude gesture and Draco sent a particularly nasty curse at it that made the offending hand fall off.

The chimaera giggled. Draco cursed it too. How dare it giggle when he'd just lost?

A slight 'tsk' came from behind him and he whirled angrily to be confronted with a lot of red hair. Draco pulled out his wand again. He was in no mood to deal with a Weasley, even the female one.

She picked up the troll's hand from the floor and stuck it in the crook of its arm. It angrily waved its club at her, and she stepped backwards, inspecting her handiwork.

Draco was wondering why she hadn't spoken yet. It was his experience that Weasleys, as a rule, were always speaking, even when you didn't want them to (which was always).

"Come to gloat, Weasley?" If they were going to fight, he might as well start it.

She shook her head and rearranged the troll's hand to be atop the chimaera's head. "No, just walking."

This only served to make Draco angrier. He was trying to antagonise her, damn it! "Should've stayed in your own territory, Weasley. Merlin only knows what happens to little lions down here."

She just looked at him. "We're in the Hufflepuff quarters, Malfoy. Which, in case you haven't noticed, are on the upper floors."

Damn. She had him there. Score – Malfoy: 0, Weasley: 1. "Exactly."

She looked almost as confused by this as he was and turned to face him directly. Score – Malfoy: 1, Weasley: 1.

Then he noticed she was wearing a 'Potter for President' badge. "Potter for president, Weasley?" he sneered. "Got a death wish, then?" Score – Malfoy: 2, Weasley: 1

She looked down in mild surprise, then grinned. "Read closer, Malfoy."

He sneered again. "Like I'd voluntarily get that close to you." Score – Malfoy: 3, Weasley: 1.

She unpinned it and tossed it to him. He caught it. "Well, it's good to see you have some reflexes. After losing to Harry for so long, I was beginning to think you didn't have any."

Ouch. Score – Malfoy: 3, Weasley: 2. "Look, it's not my fault Potter has the most unbelievable luck of anyone ever."

She shrugged. "Well, he is supposed to save the world or something."

Draco made an ugly face. "Yes, I know."

"So," she said, nodding at her badge. "You planning on giving that back to me?"

"No," he sneered, pocketing it. "I don't think I will." Score – Malfoy: 4, Weasley: 2.

She shrugged again. "Suit yourself." With that, she tucked her hands in her pockets and strolled off in the opposite direction, whistling the Monty Python theme song.

Draco scowled. Score – Malfoy: 4, Weasley: 3.

Oh well. At least he'd won.

Feeling slightly better, he picked up his bag and made his way down to the dungeons, where everyone gave him a despairing look and immediately got out of his way.

Once up in his dorm, he threw his bag across the room and flopped on his bed, only to roll over in pain.

He'd fallen on Weasley's stupid badge.

Clutching his hip, he pulled the damn thing out of his pocket and glared at it before his expression changed first to shock, then to amusement.

It didn't say 'Potter for President!'.

It said 'Potter for Poophead!'.

Draco bit his lip hard to keep himself from laughing (it wouldn't do to have his Housemates hear him laugh).

Score – Malfoy: 4, Weasley: 6.

Well, well.

Maybe there was something to the little Weasley after all.


End file.
